


Interruptions

by Raepocalypse



Category: Block B
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Teasing, self indulgent smut and literally nothing else, uh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 17:23:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14525571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raepocalypse/pseuds/Raepocalypse
Summary: Jaehyo was just trying to play a game, but if Taeil wants attention, he's going to get it. Jaehyo is just along for the ride at this point.





	Interruptions

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to write some smut again. I haven't in a long time. So uh. Here we gooooo

Jaehyo glances up as the door opens, just a flick of his eyes before he refocuses. A heavy sigh drops from his lips. “I locked it for a reason, you little freak,” he grumbles. At the instant reply in his headset, he clarifies, “No, not you guys. My roommate. Just get to the payload.”

“How's your game?” Taeil asks, standing behind him and peering at the screen, hands on his shoulders. Roommate was a word to use, yes, but he didn’t come on roommate business. 

Jaehyo grunts his reply, shifting under his hands as they creep down his chest and toy with the collar of his shirt. He stays focused, keeping a close eye on the timer, until he feels Taeil’s fingers bunching his shirt up slowly, lifting it up and up to expose his skin. 

He jumps abruptly and smacks the hands away, muting the chat as he goes back to the game. “I'm busy, Taeil. After this game, okay?”

“You always say that,” Taeil argues, leaning around the back of the chair to trace the tip of his tongue over Jaehyo's ear. “You won’t even notice I'm here. Just scoot back a little."

A shiver slides up Jaehyo's spine at the touch of his tongue, but he shrugs him off again before his lids can flutter. “You’re impossible to not notice.”

“Thank you.” 

“That’s not a compliment,” Jaehyo protests, even as his chair starts to roll back. He struggles to stay sitting forward, tries to keep his hand on the keys and the mouse as Taeil ducks under his arm and kneels under his desk. “Get the fuck out of there, you’re going to unplug something!” he yelps, looking away for a moment to reach for him. His team screeches in his ear as the other team takes the payload a few feet with him standing  _ right here _ . 

He glances back and decides not to fuck his stats up, not yet. His allowing this is complicity, he knows it, but if he’s honest with himself, he  _ likes _ it when Taeil is like this, when he’s needy and demanding and wants him and breaks in not to pester him but to make him feel good. Sometimes, he just wants to feel good. And if he has to play Overwatch through that, then so be it. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles into the chat, unmuting it finally and trying to refocus. Taeil’s hands aren’t doing anything sinful, not yet, just moving along his thighs and waist, calloused fingers brushing against his waistband. “Just my roommate, but it’s fine now.”

From between his knees, he hears an annoyed huff and knows that he’s in trouble now. He should probably not have relegated Taeil to ‘just roommate’ status or said that it was ‘fine now.’ “This is my last round for today, though.” Maybe that will earn him some points? (A glance downward shows that no, it has not, and Taeil’s hands are sliding to his fly now and unfastening it with ominous care.)

“You play until I tell you to stop,” Taeil commands, and Jaehyo swears under his breath and hopes he can write that off as irritation about the ice wall that just went up in front of their Reinhardt. 

He mutes the chat, not looking down and trying to keep his breathing even as deft, practiced fingers tug his waistband down and pull his cock out, not hard yet but already showing interest. “Taeil I don’t think-”

His dark eyes shoot up, hand wrapping around him just barely shy of too tight. Jaehyo draws in a sharp breath. “You don’t need to. Don’t mute the chat. Just stay quiet.” He ducks down, licks a stripe up his length and looks pleased with the twitch of interest he receives. “And let me know when you die.”

Jaehyo sighs out a long, even breath, measured, and goes back to the game. This is a bad idea, a terrible idea, but he unmutes it anyway because he’s an idiot. Because he’s whipped. Because he wants Taeil to call him good and throw his legs over his shoulders and swallow him down. Because he’s a fucking  _ idiot _ . 

The worst part is that, for a while, it actually is fine. Jaehyo is, disturbingly enough, almost used to this. To Taeil interrupting whatever he’s doing with the most distracting thing he can come up with. If his breathing is a little harder than necessary, well, that’s the game probably, and if he’s missing more shots than usual, well, his accuracy will suffer but he’s still getting kills. He does get taken out by a Widow, though, while Taeil is doing something  _ upsetting _ with his tongue, curling it around his head and then dipping into the tip. 

“I’m down,” he tells the chat, a little breathlessly, and instantly, Taeil backs off. It’s a struggle not to whine. 

“Up,” Taeil commands. When he hesitates, it earns him a slap to the calf. “ _ Up _ .” As soon as he’s on his feet, Taeil gets his pants and underwear off, yanks them down and then pushes him back into the chair, pulls it in while he’s too flustered still to really process what’s happening. 

His team snaps at him and he realizes, abruptly that he’s respawned and they’re waiting for him so they can rush as a group. “Fuck, sorry, I’m- I’m on my way.”

Dragging a hand over his face, he starts moving, running to where his party is trying to hold their own. His fingers fumble on the keys, though, as Taeil wraps a hand around him, now hard, and starts to stroke, slow and purposeful. His lips are soft on his thighs, tongue darting out to lap at his skin and teeth scraping. 

His breath is coming a little shakier, and usually he’s a lot more communicative, but he can’t focus right now. He can’t focus while Taeil is ducking to place wet, loud kisses along the underside of his cock. He can’t focus when he takes the tip into his red, red mouth and  _ sucks _ . When his head turns and his teeth sink into Jaehyo’s thigh, he gasps slightly, bites his lip so hard it hurts to keep himself from letting out a noise. 

That starts it in earnest. The payload is almost to where it needs to be, but Taeil is sucking where his teeth have sunken in, filling the bruises left by his teeth with a hickey and it makes Jaehyo’s thighs tense up, makes his cock twitch in his hand. They’re right there, right  _ there _ , the payload will get dropped off any second, but then he’s blown off the  _ fucking map _ . Or did he just run off the edge? He can’t tell.

He glances down while he waits for respawn and sees Taeil watching him, peering up through his glasses as he strokes faster and faster. His mouth lets go with a loud  _ pop _ and he turns the other way, bites into the meat of the other inner thigh. 

Jaehyo fails. He lets out a strangled noise, somewhere between a moan and whine that gets cut off instantly. In retaliation, Taeil releases and slaps his thigh. “I told you to be quiet,” he hisses, as Jaehyo’s teammates ask him what the fuck  _ that  _ was. 

“Don’t- Don’t worry about it,” he says, and he hates how out of breath he is. God, do they know? No one replies. They must know. Right? They have to know.  _ Fuck _ . This was a good team, too. 

He swallows down the embarrassment, relieved when the victory screen comes up and he can sit back from the computer. To his displeasure, though, Taeil’s hands leave him entirely. He shoots him a look, pleading, but he’s sitting back on his heels, watching him. 

Jaehyo knows what he looks like right now. His cheeks are flushed and his lips are bitten red. His chest is heaving, partly from being turned on, but mostly from holding his breath to try and keep quiet. His eyes are dark, staring down at the guy who is most definitely not just his roommate. 

“Another game,” Taeil demands. When Jaehyo’s mouth opens to argue, he turns and bites into him again, high in his thigh, right into the sensitive skin near the juncture of his legs, and he has to take a deep breath, grip the arms of the chair hard. 

“I’ve got time for one more,” he chokes out, and the teeth let up. He’s going to be covered in bruises. He tries to catch his breath as soft lips reward him with kisses and soothing licks over his skin. “Just- I thought I had to go, but I don’t. Just- Let’s just play one more.”

He reaches down, chancing a light touch into the short hair and relaxes some when Taeil doesn’t rebuff him. Between games, he doesn’t touch him much. Hands smoothing over his skin, sliding up his thighs and onto his waist, exploring and pushing his shirt up to see what’s underneath as though he doesn’t know. Jaehyo wants to ask if he should take it off, he wants to ask him to take off his, he wants to reciprocate, but he’s trapped in this fucking chair and this fucking game now and he’s never been so salty about it. 

The countdown begins as they choose their heroes. Someone easy. Someone simple. D.Va. No reload, just spray and pray. He can do this. One more game. He’ll be good and Taeil will let him stop. 

Only being good is so  _ hard _ . Much like him now. As soon as the door lifts and lets them out toward the control point, Taeil ducks in again and takes Jaehyo into his warm mouth fully. His cheeks hollow out, head bobbing slowly down his length. Jaehyo’s lids flutter for a moment at the sudden contact and he boosts straight into a wall for a before he gets his shit together. 

His teammates are shouting at him, but he can barely hear it over gunfire and the roar of his own blood in his ears and the sound of Taeil sucking, wet and messy and commanding his attention as much as he commands the rest of him. 

Jaehyo’s tip touches the spongy back of Taeil’s throat and he chokes, boosts over the edge and to his death. His teammates shout at him again, but he just takes the moment of reprieve to slam his head into the desk and force himself to breath. He’s going to make himself fucking pass out if he keeps holding his breath every time Taeil does something. 

When he sits up again, trying to focus, even a little, the warm mouth pulls away to be replaced with a rough hand. “If you win,” his voice, rough from the abuse he’s put on his own throat, makes Jaehyo’s toes curl a little. “You don’t have to play again.”

He looks down at him for a moment, flicks a questioning glance toward the bed before he focuses on the game again. They took the point while he was dead and now all they have to do is keep it. 

Taeil’s hand squeezes him gently, the other sliding down and under and he squirms in his seat. He won’t be able to get into him from here, not in the chair, but he knows the gesture’s intention. “Be good for me, Jaehyo, and I’ll be good to you. But if you lose, you play again and I stay here until you stop being a fuck up.”

A whine breaks free, which Jaehyo quickly turns into a groan of annoyance. “Tracer on me,” he says, clearing his throat and trying to force himself to stop thinking about the way Taeil’s lips feel. 

Taeil doesn’t stop. Of course he doesn’t. Why would he, when he’s holding all the cards? Jaehyo tries to rocket a Pharah from the sky and Taeil swallows him down again. Jaehyo sends his ult blasting into the other team, but Taeil bites into his thigh again and he ejects off the map again. Jaehyo charges up to a sniper and Taeil swallows him down again, shimmies a hand under him to tease at his rim, and he misses and takes a shot to the head. 

The game sucks. 

They manage it anyway, no thanks to him. It’s the worst game of his career, but as soon as the victory card comes up, he mutes the chat and throws the headset off, clutches at the armrests and moans. 

“Good boy,” Taeil murmurs, lapping at his tip. “Good job. Sign out and get on the bed, face down, and I’ll give you want you want.”

Clumsy hands smack at the computer until he’s signed out and he doesn’t even bother to close the game, barely manages to exit the chat, before he’s scrambling to the bed and spreading out on it. It was less than half an hour ago that he was trying to push him away, but now he thinks that if Taeil changed his mind and left, he might die. 

He doesn’t look likely to change his mind, though. His lips are red and swollen, his cheeks are flushed, his hair is a mess. His eyes are hungry, rolling over Jaehyo where he’s stretched out on the sheets. He moves toward the bed with precise steps, strips his shirt off and he’s so  _ cut _ underneath it that Jaehyo wants to turn into a puddle. 

“How many times did you die?” he asks, shucking his shorts and kicking them to the side. 

“Thirteen,” Jaehyo replies breathlessly, taking in muscles and ink and skin like this isn’t the millionth time he’s seen it, like it’s brand new and needs memorizing. He’s had the shape of Taeil memorized for ages. 

Taeil  _ tsk _ s and reaches out, slides his hands up Jaehyo’s sides and along his ribs, taking the shirt up with it. “Terrible. Maybe not as good as I thought.” When the shirt is most of the way down Jaehyo’s arms, before he can get his hands free, Taeil twists and jerks him up and before he finishes, he knows what’s happening. The makeshift knot slides around the bedpost and leaves him hooked there. “There. Beautiful.”

Now that he has him down and laid bare and spread out, he just looks at him and Jaehyo squirms under the attention. He knows what he looks like, but it doesn’t stop Taeil from telling him out loud. 

“So pretty for me,” he says softly, leaning down and crawling onto the bed finally. His hands ghost touches across Jaehyo’s long frame, skimming enough to cause shivers but not enough to give him any relief. “Flushed all the way down your chest. Your lips are all red, baby, be careful, you might bite too hard and split one.” He thumbs over the lower lip, tugs at it just a little and follows it with the first kiss Jaehyo has gotten since this morning, since before this started. He moans into it, pressing forward and up and whining against his lips. 

Taeil pulls back again and puts a hand to his shoulder, pinning him to the bed. “No, baby, I’m going to take you apart one piece at a time. Do you want that? Or should I go?”

Jaehyo whines, squirming again but nodding frantically. “Yes. I want that. I want that. Don’t go.”

He hums, apparently pleased, and sets to work. His mouth finds Jaehyo’s jaw, kissing soft and careful along the line of it and punctuating every few gentle kisses with a nip hard enough to draw a gasp. He makes it to his throat and pauses for several minutes to suck hickeys in that will need a turtleneck to cover up for days, and even then he may have to use coverup. Thank god they don’t have a schedule coming up. 

Taeil makes his way down again. The fingers of one hand dance across his heated skin and pinch and pull at his nipple while his lips find the opposite one and tease. His tongue and teeth abuse the stiff little bud until Jaehyo is arching into his mouth, whining, feeling raw and exposed and pulling at the shirt without thinking about it. It’s going to be ruined, stretched and useless, at the end of this. Taeil doesn’t care. He never does. 

Finally, he moves on, and leaves a purple and blue trail of marks down Jaehyo’s torso, biting into his ribs and sucking at the V along his hips. “Mine,” he practically whispers, nipping harshly again and Jaehyo is so overstimulated by now that he would gladly get on his knees and beg for a touch on his cock at this point. 

He, of course, does not get that, because Taeil is lifting his leg and kissing down his thigh, his calf, and leaving it on his shoulder. He lifts the other leg and kisses it the same way, leaving it in the same place and snatching the bottle of lube from the sheets. 

(When had he put that there? Did he bring it in with him before? God, Jaehyo was lost, but he didn’t think it really mattered right now. He didn’t think where he was mattered right now, and he was starting to not care who he was anymore, as long as Taeil did  _ something _ .)

Liberally coated fingers slide down, teasing Jaehyo’s hole messy and wet and careful. “Relax, beautiful,” he murmurs, his eyes not straying from the man’s face where he has him bent nearly in half. “Let me take care of you.”

Jaehyo whines again and hates himself for it, but he relaxes some and is rewarded with the tip of his blunt fingers slowly pressing into him. The whine turns to a moan, drawing it out of him as he closes his eyes. Instantly, the fingers still and Jaehyo feels a warning bite on his calf. “Open. Look at me.”

With shaking breaths, Jaehyo opens his eyes again and looks back up at Taeil’s face. Their eyes lock and the fingers start to move again. 

It’s painfully slow. Taeil knows how Jaehyo likes it, knows he’s ready to be thrown against the wall, but knows he likes this too. He knows that one finger is enough to get him off, but he needs at least two to take him if they want to be rough, three if they want it to be easy. He knows the exact crook his fingers need to be at to make the man below him shout and arch and chant his name like a prayer. 

Tears are pricking at Jaehyo’s eyes by the time Taeil pulls his fingers away and allows him to fall to the bed and breathe. “Tell me what you want now,” he says firmly, at odds with the way his clean hand smooths lovingly down Jaehyo’s thighs. 

“Fuck me,” Jaehyo chokes out, writhing in his grip, but careful not to dislodge himself from where Taeil is half holding him up. “Please, Taeil, fuck me, just- just- I want to feel you, please-” He cuts off as he feels Taeil’s tip pressing against him, chokes the words back and grips the shirt holding him down in tight fists. His head is thrown back, teeth digging into his lip and long throat exposed as he sinks into him in one slow, steady stroke. 

Taeil was teasing and slow before, but now that he’s finally getting something himself, for the first time today, his control breaks almost instantly. As soon as Jaehyo has caught his breath, giving him a near imperceptible nod, he’s pulling out and slamming in again harshly. His hands grip Jaehyo’s thighs, likely leaving more bruises as he rolls their hips together. Jaehyo can barely breath already, but then Taeil pulls out and flips him over. He grabs his hips, yanks him onto his knees and slides back into him roughly. 

Jaehyo’s arms are caught awkwardly and he’s twisted at the waist, but he moans at the way Taeil slams into him. The bed is shaking, slamming into the wall with every thrust. Hands are around Jaehyo’s waist, holding him and dragging him back for maximum impact on each grind. There was a time when this wasn’t enough, when Jaehyo had to have a hand around him to get off, but now, after this long, Taeil has him trained well enough. 

Jaehyo tries to gasp out a warning, but it fails and turns into breathless half-words on his lips. He chokes on the words and it dies on his tongue. His body constricts and he bucks, coming over the sheets in thick stripes. Taeil reaches down, fisting a hand into Jaehyo’s hair and yanking his head back. He crashes their lips together as he comes, biting and sucking and grinding them together so that he goes as he deep as he can while Jaehyo’s muscles clench around him. 

Taeil pulls back carefully, pulling his sticky body away from Jaehyo’s as he collapses onto the filthy sheets. “I hate you,” Jaehyo gasps, his eyes closing. He gets a soft laugh in reply and the other man pulls out entirely, leaving him clenching around nothing and feeling cold. He knows this, though. He knows the routine. Taeil comes back moments later and gentle hands untangle him from the (predictably) ruined shirt. 

“You did so good,” he murmurs, rolling Jaehyo over and wiping him down with a warm, damp cloth. “Give me a sec for my muscles to stop feeling like noodles and I’ll carry you to bed.”

“I’m in bed,” Jaehyo argues, already exhausted. He spent too long on the edge now and he just wants to rest. 

“You want to sleep in this bed?” Taeil snorts, already on his way out of the room again. This time, he comes back with a cool bottle of water. He bullies Jaehyo into sitting up and makes him drink, then holds the cold bottle to the back of his spine to force him to wake up again. When he gets a glare, he grins. 

Inked arms are held out to him and Jaehyo casts Taeil a suspicious look, even though this is part of it. This is ritual. They make a mess of one bed and then pass out together in the other. Eventually, he reaches out, allows the much smaller man to lift him and carry him to the other room. It feel ridiculous, because he’s so much taller, but Taeil is stronger than any other member, and he could (sometimes does) deadlift Jaehyo whether he wants him to or not. 

They make it to the other bed and Taeil lays him out gently, tucks him under the covers and curls up with him. 

“No pajamas?” he asks, just awake enough to pretend to care. 

“No pajamas,” Taeil mumbles, flagging now that his job is done. His arms wind around his waist and pull him close, face buried in his neck. 

He hums, squirming. “I want to wear clothes.”

“Shut up,” Taeil chastises, pinching his side and earning a laugh. 

“I hate you,” Jaehyo says weakly, softly. 

Taeil hums, amused. “Love you too.”


End file.
